Chapter Text
Have you ever had a bizarre day? Well, for one Gryffindor fifth-year, it usually was awful but rarely bizarre. For Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, Voldemort's defeater, Champion of the Triwizard Tournament, Gryffindor's youngest and best Seeker in history—it is today.
Harry's fifth year had not gone well since the Ministry of Magic intervened in Hogwarts education with the appointment of one pink, hideous toad: Dolores Umbitch (oops, he meant Umbridge) the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
And that's saying something, considering his duel with Voldemort, the torture he endured, and....witnessing Cedric Diggory's death during last year's Triwizard Tournament, and even before that with him almost dying in Second year by Basilisk venom in the Chambers of Secrets—thanks Fawkes—or when he thought his godfather Sirius Black was out to kill him in Third Year, or even when he was almost expelled for so called "Underage use of magic."
Her awful educational decrees, nonsensical rules has turned the lives of Hogwarts students into a living nightmare, and her ludicrous way of teaching of no “wand waving”, Harry's year only went from bad to worse.
As if Umbridge wasn't enough, most of Britain's wizarding community including Hogwarts students had also decided to call him a stinking liar for Voldemort's return—even some of his housemates like Seamus Finnigan, the gall of him really—dragging his name through the mud and isolating him. Ironically, for all Harry cared, the only people who seemed likely to believe him were the Death Eaters and supporters of Voldemort, funny isn’t it. Harry felt he should be rolling his eyes at the whole matter....honestly really.
As Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast with a face that looked completely done with everything, he made his way toward the Gryffindor table, where his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, were seated. He spotted Umbridge at the Staff table, looking as haughty and pink as ever (Honestly, doesn’t she ever get tired of the bright colour?) His day was already starting to look like it wasn't going to be great.
Before reaching the Great Hall, he was bombarded in the corridors and staircases by looks of disdain from a few Hufflepuffs—can't blame them that much, really, Harry thought—and Ravenclaws—those Harry could blame—who were either still upset over last year's events or his adamant on Voldemorts return this year, along with per usual Slytherins who gave him similar looks and hurled insults at him along the way, they weren’t as creative as he thought they would be.
As Harry sat down, he saw Ron already gobbling down his breakfast, while Hermione was too fixated on reading today's Daily Prophet to even notice him sitting down in front of her. She had a mixed expression on her face as she drank a glass of pumpkin juice.
“Mornin’, Harry….uh, you ok there mate?” Ron asked worriedly, with food still in his mouth.
“Yeah, never felt better,” Harry replied sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Ron immediately became sheepish, giving him those apologetic eyes for asking such a dumb question.
Feeling the tension, Ron immediately asked Hermione what she was reading.
“Oh... Harry, I didn’t realize you were finally here. Oh, uh, yeah, it’s Rita Skeeter again, saying nonsensical things about you. Today’s headline is ‘The Boy Who Lied? Potter’s Shocking Mental Breakdown Revealed.’ She’s claiming that your brain is damaged after last year! Cant believe her!”
“C’mon, Mione’, it’s Skeeter. Of course she would,” Ron exclaimed. Harry couldn’t help but agree, Hermione really should have expected something like that from Rita Skeeter.
“I know, I know, but honestly Harry, she shouldn't be allowed to write things like that about you. It's completely irresponsible and unfair. I really should have reported her for being an illegal Animagus the moment I found out.” Hermione added frustrated, whispering the last part.
As Ron and Hermione continued their discussion about Skeeter, Harry found himself barely listening. Something felt off. He couldn't explain why, but there was a strange sensation lingering in the air, a quiet uneasiness that made him feel as though something unseen was shifting around him. It was an odd feeling, one he couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried.
Then, without warning, a tiny whisper brushed against his ear, sending a strange chill down his spine.
“The tale awaits its telling.”
“Ron, Mione’....did…did you guys hear that?” he stuttered, looking around for the source of the whisper. As he glanced around the Great Hall, he realized it seemed that he was the only one who had noticed it, the other students and the professors continued going about their day as if nothing had happened.
“Hear what, Harry?” they asked, abruptly ending their conversation with confused looks. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Skeeter had actually managed to get inside his head, was he really having some sort of mental breakdown after all?
“Merlin....I might actually be going crazy,” Harry murmured to himself.
“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked worriedly, having possibly heard him say that.
“N-Never mind,” Harry said quickly, trying to sound reassuring. He failed, of course. Hermione didn’t try to pry, instead she gave up and offered him a reassuring smile. Harry knew that she was pitying him. Ron was giving him a similar look, one that Harry absolutely loathed which made felt belittled.
But Harry was certain he had heard someone—or something—whisper those words to him. “The tale awaits its telling.” The phrase echoed in his mind. But what did it mean? What tale was waiting to be told? Harry was blanking.
Then, suddenly, the large doors of the Great Hall slammed shut with a loud bang, startling most of the students and professors inside.
As Harry glanced around, he saw that most of the students looked confused. However, when he turned his head toward the Staff table, he noticed worried expressions on the professors faces even Umbridge looked concerned which was a sight Harry never thought he would see.
Umbridge then immediately stood up and shrieked “What is the meaning of this!”
Nevermind, Harry thought. Still the same.
Dumbledore then stood up, calmly ignoring Umbridge. “Please remain calm. It’s probably just a prank,” he said, before turning his attention toward the Weasley twins who are known for their pranks.
“Wasn’t us, Professor. Really, we swear,” they replied, though their words did little to reassure some of the younger students.
“Professor Snape, please take a look,” Dumbledore requested, his expression remaining calm and passive.
Snape walked quickly toward the doors, his usual cold, scowling expression fixed on his face. As he reached them, he pulled out his wand and attempted to open the doors, but nothing happened. He tried several times, each failed attempt causing the chatter among the students to grow louder.
“It’s sealed shut...Headmaster,” Snape said. The confused faces around the Great Hall slowly turned into expressions of panic making the chatter louder.
Another professor attempted to open one of the other doors near the Staff table, but met the same result. Again, also didn’t help.
With the anti-Apparition wards, none of the professors could simply leave and investigate from outside.
Harry noticed that everyone immediately obeyed. Even the students who had been whispering nervously fell silent though the worried expressions on their faces remained. He couldn't blame them really, the fact that the doors were sealed shut wasn't exactly reassuring now was it?
Professor McGonagall then raised her wand and cast a spell Harry didn't recognize. A faint shimmer appeared around the professors, and Harry realized he could no longer hear what they were saying. Whatever spell she had used was clearly meant to keep their conversation private.
Harry watched the Staff table carefully, trying to figure out what was happening. He noticed Umbridge was doing most of the talking, waving her hands and speaking with an expression that looked far too annoyed for someone who claimed to be in control of everything.
For once, Harry noticed, even she didn't look completely confident.
Around him, the Great Hall had gone unusually quiet. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the professors, waiting for anyone or someone to explain what was going on.
But Harry had a feeling it had something to with that odd sensation he felt earlier….and the mysterious words that was whispered to him moments ago.
It couldn’t be a coincidence….could it?
He wasn’t wrong, was he?
He finally turned back to Ron and Hermione. For once, neither of them had a comment, a theory, or a worried question. They were just as quiet and uncertain as everyone else.
Hermione opened her mouth, clearly about to say something, when suddenly a group of people appeared across the Great Hall which he assumed were Students and there he also Filch.
Harry froze.
More and more figures began appearing, some familiar, some not and some he had never expected to see. He immediately recognized the Weasleys, Professor Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley, Sirius which Harry recognized in his Animagus form, and several other members of the Order. Then his eyes landed on familiar faces from the Ministry, the same people he had seen during the day of his hearing but he did not know their names but he did know Amelia Bones who was the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Even Fudge the Minister for Magic was here.
And then, to Harry's disbelief, he saw the Malfoys, regal and pompous as ever but with faces of disbelief this also included everyone who randomly appeared in the Great Hall.
Before anyone could say anything, several more figures appeared. Harry recognized some of them instantly as Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, their hands bound in chains and their bodies completely motionless.
The Great Hall erupted into screams and panic.
But before anyone could move, Harry saw what he assumed were Aurors rush forward and surround the escaped prisoners, their wands trained directly on them.
“What in the bloody name of Merlin is happening here Dumbledore?!” Fudge demanded, finally voicing the question that everyone else was silently asking.
The silence in the Great Hall was finally broken.
“Alas, Cornelius, I do not know,” Dumbledore replied. His expression showed a mixture of despair and uneasiness, a sight Harry rarely saw from the Headmaster.
Before anyone could say anything, Harry heard the phrase again. This time, however, it was no longer a whisper meant only for him.
It echoed throughout the Great Hall.
“The tale awaits its telling.”
With that, Harry knew he had not been wrong. He wasn't imagining things. He wasn't going mad.
But that meant something else was happening.
Still....at least he wasn't going crazy.
That was good, wasn't it?
The phrase echoed a few more times throughout the Great Hall before, suddenly a mysterious yet painfully bland-looking door appeared out of nowhere in front of the Staff table. Harry had seen some boring things in his life—he had lived with the Dursleys after all—but even they would have struggled to make something this dull, in his opinion it looked rather muggly—is that a word, thought Harry. The door was painted a dull white, clean but forgettable, with no markings or features to make it stand out.
Harry stared at it as everybody else, unable to understand what he was seeing. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask Ron and Hermione what was possibly happening but no words came out.
His eyes widened.
Then he realized he wasn't the only one.
Around him, everyone else was experiencing the same thing. The Great Hall had fallen into complete silence, not because nobody wanted to speak but because nobody could.
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. Both of them were trying to speak as well, but no words came out. The three of them exchanged looks of complete bafflement, none of them having any idea what was happening.
The door finally opened, slowly, and a figure or rather a man in what looked like a flashy suit appeared in the doorway. For a moment, neither the hall nor he moved. Then, the figure smiled.